


The Beginning

by 221brosiewilde



Series: Resurrections and Stolen Cigarettes [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221brosiewilde/pseuds/221brosiewilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Already old habit is telling him to deactivate the bomb that was Jim’s temper even though he wants it to go off so badly he can feel it in his bones. But Jim has been chipping away at his nerves all day. The explosion is coming and Sebastian doesn’t think he’ll let instinct win out and duck for cover this time.<br/>Two weeks later, Jim and Sebastian have finally found a safe house. However things can only go unresolved and unexplained for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third, and final part of the Resurrections and Stolen Cigarettes Series. I suggest reading the other two parts before reading this part, but don't let me tell you what to do. Thank you again to Sarah, Laurie, and Rachael for being awesome human beings.

Once, they’d been able to move around each other with relative ease. Casual brushes of shoulders, hands on the smalls of backs, the occasional touch of Jim’s hand in Sebastian’s hair, an embrace from behind that acted as a segue into a conversation that almost never was finished; they were all small ways to show how attuned they were, orbiting around each other like planets.

Sebastian reaches for the plastic fork at the same time Jim does. Their fingers brush, and Sebastian recoils as if burned. Jim’s reaction isn’t so fast.

Now touches are awkward accidents.

“You take it,” they both say at the same time. Jim pauses, and Sebastian sighs, frustrated. Before the gunshot it would have been something they’d laugh about. Now the air goes stale.

“Here,” Sebastian says, and pushes the fork over to Jim, already getting up to search for another one in the bag of takeout he’d left in the kitchen. They’d finally gotten around to moving out of a string of dingy hotels and into a safe house, though it wasn’t much better what with it having no furniture, and heating that liked to give out at odd intervals. But it was slightly more permanent, and it had two bedrooms which meant that they weren’t forced to sleep next to each other. And sleeping next to each other was problematic for a few reasons.

They both had nightmares now.

Waking up and talking about it wasn’t an option the way it had been before, and neither was the distraction of sex. Instead they’d stared at opposite ends of the room, staying quiet until their breathing finally evened out and they were lulled into sleep again. Jim’s nightmares always sounded worse, and Sebastian had to hold tight to every bit of skin he was composed of in order to keep himself from curling around Jim until he quieted again.

He’d barely slept.

But having Jim in a separate room was easier. He could pretend that he hadn’t already forgiven him if he couldn’t see him at night.

Because he had. Forgiven him. He’d forgiven him for all of it the second his fist had connected with Jim’s nose, and he’d watched the blood gush over Jim’s hands.

It had restored the balance of his world a little.

It’s pathetic.

Sebastian walks back into living room after emerging triumphant with another fork.  He settles back down on the floor, and digs into his Tandoori chicken. Jim is watching him.

“It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen you do any actual work,” he says, drumming his fingers soundlessly on the low coffee table Sebastian had managed to trash pick. “Do you even-”

“Yes,” Sebastian answers, pushing his food away from him.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I didn’t need to,” Sebastian says, and levels Jim with an even stare. He almost falters. Jim’s eyes are dark, and the hunted look he’d been wearing since he’d come back to London is almost completely gone now. For a second it’s almost like he’d never left, and they were just picking fights with each other the way they always did when tension was running high. But back then they’d been harmless and the worst thing they’d come away with was carpet burn or a split lip.

“It’s not polite to interrupt,” Jim says after a while, tone veering in agitation, and Sebastian inhales quietly.

“You were going to ask if I even work anymore,” he replies. Already old habit is telling him to deactivate the bomb that was Jim’s temper even though he wants it to go off so badly he can feel it in his bones. But Jim has been chipping away at his nerves all day. The explosion is coming and Sebastian doesn’t think he’ll let instinct win out and duck for cover this time. “I do. I have people who are always in contact with me should anything go wrong.”

“People?” Jim blinks, looking genuinely surprised. “I always thought you’d be the more hands on type. Since when do you let _people_ do anything for you?”

“Since you left me in charge of an entire city’s worth of crime,” Sebastian snaps, and now he’s definitely glaring, resentment seeping out along the edges of everything he’s been trying to hold together for too long. They’ve been doing this a lot lately, dancing along the ledge of their anger but never tipping over, always dangling precariously along the sides without delving into it the way they really needed to if they were ever going to go back to the way things had been.

Jim smirks, the expression almost reptilian, never reaching his eyes, and Sebastian knows that this time they’re going to take the plunge.

“Oh, darling,” Jim laughs, but his voice is laced with venom. “You’re not supposed to be in charge or anything.”

There’s a beat of pure silence and and Sebastian’s anger momentarily dissipates in the face of confusion. “What?”

Jim laughs again, sounding more cruel this time. “You were never supposed to pick up where I’d left off. Everything I’d planned and left open was meant to stay put until I came back.” He pauses, waiting for a reaction, but Sebastian doesn’t speak, too stunned to form words, so Jim continues.

“When I found out you’d threatened Cutler and made sure everything stayed where it was, I have to admit I was surprised. I thought you would have mourned longer. But then you started moving things around again, finishing up the little projects I’d started. It was impressive, but it did draw Holmes back to London sooner than I anticipated. His big brother’s been snooping around too. Or have you not noticed?”

Sebastian realizes he’s been clenching his jaw when it cracks, and he loosens it with some effort, staring at Jim. It was true that they’d had a few moles in the weeks before Jim had showed up again, but they hadn’t been anything serious, just lower level disposables. Harmless.

“But you just couldn’t let it go, could you?” Jim continues, sending a chill up Sebastian’s spine. “You had to get involved and preserve my legacy. How touching. Now everything’s a mess, and it’s all because you couldn’t wait a bit longer. Honestly, I should have known not to rely on your intelligence.”

Jim stops speaking with a sigh. Sebastian blinks, and before he fully realizes what he’s doing, he lunges. He has Jim’s shoulders pressed into the table, and his hands around his neck, straddling his hips as he digs his thumbs into his trachea. Jim scrambles at his hands, nails digging in and drawing blood as he struggles, but Sebastian barely feels it, too furious to feel anything.

“I thought you _died_ ,” he growls, taking sick pleasure in how panicked Jim’s eyes are. “You left without a note, without any form of instruction, and you have the fucking nerve to tell me that I acted wrongly. That I should have waited. I am not your _fucking dog, Jim_. I don’t wait.”

Sebastian presses harder but Jim manages to pry two of his fingers away. Sebastian scrambles to regain his hold but before he can, Jim has his legs wrapped around Sebastian’s waist and flips them over, pinning Sebastian’s arms above his head and panting as he tries to get his breath back. Sebastian stares up at Jim, both of their expressions challenging, angry, just another tense pause after a seemingly endless two weeks full of tense pauses.

And then suddenly the dam breaks. They’re kissing.

And Sebastian groans, because no one kisses like Jim Moriarty.

It’s messy, and lacks finesse, but it feels like coming home, and Sebastian can barely think around the feeling of Jim pressed against him, all biting teeth and forgiving lips. He turns them over, and grips Jim’s hair in his fist, slamming his head back down onto the hardwood when he tries to lean up. The answering moan is worth it, and so is the insistent movement of Jim’s hips underneath him. Sebastian can barely work a hand between their bodies with how tightly wound around each other they are, but it’s perfect.

Jim slides his hands up the length of Sebastian’s back, and scratches down. Sebastian can’t help but arch against the feeling and kiss the resulting grin off of Jim’s mouth. Clothes come off quickly, and it’s not long before finally, fucking finally, they’re both naked against each other.

It might have been two years, it might have been an eternity, but lying on the hardwood floor with the familiar movement of Jim’s rib cage, his hips, his mouth, all against him, Sebastian can almost believe he’s never left, that they’ve never stopped doing this in the first place.

“Lube?” Jim gasps, voice trembling when Sebastian’s hand slides down and takes hold of both their cocks, stroking up once.

“No, I-” Jim rocks his hips up into Sebastian’s hand and the friction nearly undoes them both. “I don’t think we have time for that.”

“Good point.”

After that, there’s nothing left to say. They move against each other, all rolling hips and desperation. Sebastian latches on to the ring of bruises already starting to form around Jim’s neck, sucking hard and kissing better, and Jim makes a sound like he’s dying, loud and completely wrecked. It doesn’t take long. All it takes is one more hard thrust of Sebastian’s hips and Jim is spilling into his hand, nails digging deep crescents into Sebastian’s arms as he gasps through his orgasm.

“Are you-”

“Yeah,” Sebastian answers, caught on the edge already because it’s been a while, but also because Jim is under him and real and not dead and it’s too much and he just can’t-

Jim’s hand is in his hair, soothing, and his voice is in his ear, gentle for once. “Go on, darling,” he breathes. “For me.”

And Sebastian does.

They breathe against each other for what feels like forever, with Sebastian staying close, and Jim idly carding his fingers through Sebastian’s hair.

“So are you going to admit you’ve forgiven me now, or are you going to sulk for another two weeks?” Jim asks after a moment and Sebastian can’t hold back his laugh. It sounds slightly hysterical, even to his ears, but no one could expect him to feel sane after that.

“That depends,” he answers, picking his head up to look at Jim, keeping his face carefully blank. “Are you going to run off and leave me again?”

Jim stays silent, and for a horrible, sinking moment Sebastian thinks he might say yes, and he wishes that he just didn’t ask.

“Why didn’t you want me to tell you why I came back?” Jim finally asks. Sebastian can hear the frustration in his voice at not being able to figure it out, expertly masked though it is. He sighs, and rolls off of Jim, pulling him close. He doesn’t want to hear it, not now when everything was so still and messy and perfect.

“Because I knew you’d be a rude little shit about it,” Sebastian answers finally, already reaching for his pants. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes from the pocket and lights one, inhaling deeply. The rule used to be no smoking in the flat, and Sebastian checks to see if Jim’s disgruntled by it, but he’s only met with a placid expression. “And I was right.”

“That’s not the actual reason.”

“Isn’t it?”

Jim ignores him. “You didn’t want to hear that I’d come back to finish off Sherlock Holmes.”

Sebastian smokes and says nothing. Silence was always an acquiescence where Jim was concerned anyway.

“Thought so,” Jim says, smug as he curls up next to Sebastian, turning his head into his shoulder and breathing him in. “But you’re only half right.”

“Am I?”

“Mhm,” Jim hums, looking gleeful the way he always does right before he spills one of his big schemes. The expression makes him look young, and Sebastian remembers how much he’d missed seeing it. “Though you didn’t exactly make it easy, I think I’ve thought of a way out of all this.”

Sebastian leans into the touch, and lets Jim’s words sink in. He rolls them around in his mind and watches the smoke from his cigarette curl and dissipate before it reaches the ceiling. “And what’s that?”

“I’m not going to finish off Holmes,” Jim stage whispers, walking his fingers up Sebastian’s chest. “ _We’re_ going to finish off Moran and Moriarty.”

Sebastian looks over at Jim finally, confusion clear on his face, because that was...worrying. “What?”

“You’re going to pay a certain Ronald Adair a visit tonight,” Jim says, the old tone of command in his voice. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, smirking, and the pieces of Sebastian’s world shift like tectonic plates moving back into place after years of stillness. He grins.

Jim plucks the cigarette from his fingers, and takes a long drag.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this series and are super confused as to why it ends so abruptly/need closure, do not fear! There is an epilogue in the works that will detail all of the further adventures of Jim and Sebastian while they try to destroy their identities. I can't promise that I'll be able to turn it out very quickly since school is starting up again soon, but I'm going to do my best. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
